tled over their heads, but
fortunately they were untouched.

The great volley of wind was gone in a few moments, as if it were a
single huge cannon shot. It whistled off to the eastward, but left in
its path a trail of torn and fallen trees. Then in its path came the
sweep of the great rain; the air grew darker, the thunder ceased to
crash, the lightning died away, and the water poured down in sheets over
the black and mangled forest.

"Now boys, we'll start," said Ross. "Them Shawnees had to hunt cover,
an' they can't see us nohow. Up with them bags of salt!"

In an incredibly short time the salt was loaded on the pack horses and
then they were picking their way down the steep and dangerous gully in
the side of the hill. Henry, Paul and the master locked hands in the
dark and the driving rain, and saved each other from falls. Ross and Sol
seemed to have the eyes of cats in the dark and showed the way.

"My God!" murmured Mr. Pennypacker, "I could not have dreamed ten years
ago that I should ever take part in such a scene as this!"

Low as he spoke, Henry heard him and he detected, too, a certain note of
pride in the master's tone, as if he were satisfied with the manner in
which he had borne himself. Henry felt the same satisfaction, although
he could not deny that he had felt many terrors.

After much difficulty and some danger they reached the bottom of the
hill unhurt, and then they sped across a fairly level country, not much
troubled by undergrowth or fallen timber, keeping close together so that
no one might be lost in the darkness and the rain, Ross, as usual,
leading the line, and Shif'less Sol bringing up the rear. Now and then
the two men called the names of the others to see that all were present,
but beyond this precaution no word was spoken, save in whispers.

Henry and Paul felt a deep and devout thankfulness for the chance that
had saved them from a long siege and possible death; indeed it seemed to
them that the hand of God had turned the enemy aside, and in their
thankfulness they forgot that, soaked to the bone, cold and tired, they
were still tramping through the lone wilderness, far from Wareville.

The darkness and the pouring rain endured for about an hour, then both
began to lighten, streaks of pale sky appeared in the east, and the
trees like cones emerged from the mist and gloom. All of the
salt-workers felt their spirits rise. They knew that they had escaped
from the conflict wonderful